


How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?

by VictorianLesbian



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9788972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictorianLesbian/pseuds/VictorianLesbian
Summary: Bernie don't have the courage to declare her love to Serena





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for lunacatriona HolbyCityContest

How much do you have to drink to not feel anything? You ask yourself, maybe you would like to say it out loud while you dive into your glass of whiskey and take a slow sip.  
You are in Serena's house and everything in her house is screaming her name. Her smell is everywhere, it stuns you and you curse the moment you accepted her invitation.  
«How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?» This time you say it out loud, and she doesn't even seem to have heard you, as she holds a glass of Shiraz in her exquisite hands. She looks like the kind of person who has the answer to your question.  
You feel stupid next to her, on her couch. You feel your heart racing while her head rests on your shoulder and she sighs while swallowing her wine.  
You're a coward now and you always were, trying to drown your feelings for Serena inside an half empty glass.  
Pointless, you think to yourself.  
Your feelings are always there.  
You both had a tough day: the many losses in the operating room, your divorce, her problems with Jason. It all gets to you as a wave of nausea and you lose all your courage once again.  
You look at her leaning against you. She is your Goddess dressed with leopard print shirts and a smile as bright as a thousand sunrises. It is the thing that you love most about her.  
You are sad, like twilight, solitary and some would say cold as ice, she is exactly everything that you are not. She holds the sun within herself and, as the sun does with the moon, she lights up your life, she makes you feel alive again.  
You love her – yes, this is love, even if it was damn hard to admit it- like you've never loved anyone before her.  
«It's all relative.» Her voice slow because of the alcohol reaches you, and you ask yourself how much time has passed since you posed the question. How long have you been in your head Ms. Wolfe? A minute? An hour? A whole day? Has the earth exploded and has everything started over until you reached this point in time again?  
You do not know.  
You think back to her words. You both already knew the answer, but it's nice to have an excuse to hear her voice. This alcohol is not strong enough for you and it is having almost no effect. You grew up in the army and in those environments you learned to hold much more than a few glasses.  
Her eyes close, tired, while holding a glass of wine in her delicate fingers. You gulp down the rest of your whiskey before the ice turns it into dirty water.  
You search for the courage to kiss her while, with eyes closed, she is unaware that your faces are just a few inches away.  
You can always blame the alcohol if it were to upset Serena.  
You stop and you can feel her hot breath on your lips.  
You move away from her.

How much do you have to drink to not feel love anymore?   
There will never be enough glasses of whiskey or Shiraz on the whole damn planet that will complete a task that impossible.  
The softness of her breasts against your side leaves you short of breath. You want to groan out loud but do not dare.  
What would you do to see those breasts, take them in your hands, kiss them, love them, love every part of her for the rest of your existence. But Wolfe, you'll never be brave enough to confess your feelings and you know that. Maybe all you have left to do is to run away and forget about it, forget about how you came back to life thanks to her.  
Maybe one day you'll do that when she will fall in love with the next idiot who will sooner or later steal her heart. Serena Campbell is too attractive not to catch man's eyes. How long will it be before your heart will fall apart to see her in the arms of another?  
She is not your woman.  
You keep saying that, but it is pointless. Jealousy starts to crawl like a treacherous snake inside your mind.  
You picture her with him, in her bed, and you become furious. You squeeze the glass in your hand so hard you think that it will shatter.  
«Bernie.» Her voice awakens you from your slumber and you look in those worried eyes. You smile pretending that everything is fine and she seems satisfied with it. If only she knew, she would not take your hand in hers as she is doing now, she would not lean so much on your body, would not invite you to her house, even though at times you think she knows exactly the reaction she is causing in you.  
Serena Campbell is definitely not stupid.  
She occasionally flirts with you. You both do that with the other. But it is only camaraderie, isn’t it. It is something that has to do with spending the whole day in the same department, the same shared office. Is that something that makes everyone think of you two as the self-appointed mothers of AAU.  
Yes, you could really be the mother of most of the guys there. You feel old and you think back to your children who don't speak to you anymore. How would they react to knowing that their mother - more than fifty years old - is in love like a teenager with her best friend?  
God, you feel ridiculous.  
You feel Serena soft snoring against you and a sweet smile blossoms on your lips, thinking how beautiful she is without even having to try. 

How much do you have to drink to not feel remorse?  
You grab the whiskey bottle and drink straight from it, who cares if you eventually will die of liver disease. Your time on this earth sucks. An eternal purgatory that reminds you of your past mistakes, cruelly lists them every day before your eyes, and only looking at Serena seems to ease the pain for a few hours.   
Berenice, you think, the name of a beautiful proud woman, who sacrifices the thing she holds most sacred for love. You vaguely remember the legend, your mind clouded by alcohol. No name could be more wrong for you than this except well, maybe Griselda. Once Serena told you that it meant "Old Heroine". You smile full of contempt. On second thought maybe, old but never a hero.   
You have another drink.  
Your thoughts become clouded and your limbs are screaming with exhaustion. The position is uncomfortable with Serena's weight against you, but you do not want to move even one inch from there. Tomorrow you'll deal with the back pain. Tonight you simply don't care. 

How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?  
Perhaps you know that, after all, this is where the punishment is. You'll never lose your self-awareness and you will continue to mull over your feelings as you drown and fall asleep, perhaps for the first time in months, with Serena to warm you body and soul.


End file.
